


Your eyes say what my lips cannot

by appleseed



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, M/M, Prompt Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-26
Updated: 2012-03-26
Packaged: 2017-11-02 13:39:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/369573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/appleseed/pseuds/appleseed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes, they don't need words.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Your eyes say what my lips cannot

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pocky_slash](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pocky_slash/gifts).



> This is for pocky_slash for three reasons; because she wanted someone to write a fic based on the prompt given below, because she is excellent, and because she was sad. Hope you like it, Kait ♥

Chaste, adj.: the delectable desire of being in the crowd and wanting each other badly, conveying in the scantest of touches.

*

It's difficult to hide a relationship at the best of times, Charles thinks as he squashes himself into one of the overgrown beanbags littering the coffee shop, taking care not to spill any of his tea, but it's a hundred – a thousand, a million – times more difficult when all he wants to do is stand on top of the world and shout it out for everyone to hear. He's never done anything as illicit as what he's doing now, eyeing Erik up from the comfort of the beanbag and hoping no-one notices; his sharp-eyed sister has always seen more than he'd like, but so far, she hasn't noticed anything.

Which is just as well, really, Charles muses, watching out of the corner of his eye as Erik folds himself into a chair beside Hank, all lean grace and easy movement, and sips at his coffee-- an Americano, tall and smooth like the man himself. There are many complicated reasons why their relationship can't be made public, or at least made known to their circle of friends, and Charles hates every one of them. A childish, reckless part of him wants to kiss Erik right here and now, and to hell with the consequences, but he is an adult, apparently, and responsible, so he can't.

He had never expected to fall in love – he was too cynical for that - but he could never have done anything else once he'd met Erik.

Hank is talking about the aquarium that's just opened nearby, and when Charles catches Erik's eye, he realises that Erik has placed himself in the perfect spot to do just that. The thought makes him smile. They've been to the aquarium already, together; Charles had looked on with deeply-held fond amusement as Erik had wandered round in a state of excitement verging on paroxysms of glee. He rarely grew quite so animated and it was an afternoon that Charles cherished. Erik's eyes hold a smile now, and Charles has to look away before he does something inadvisable in the middle of the coffee shop.

Raven squawks, “Charles! Show Erik your photos of the exhibition! He won't have seen them yet.” As Charles fumbles in his pocket for his phone, Raven goes on, “wait till you see this, Erik, it's _amazing_ , Charles got us tickets and we brought him with us.” Charles wriggles the beanbag round to face in Erik's direction; his grey eyes follow Charles' every move as Charles reaches out with the phone, leaning across Alex and giving it into Erik's hand. Erik has already seen the photos in question, but for the sake of appearances, he'll submit to Raven's request.

For a brief second, Erik's fingertips brush against the back of Charles' hand; his heart skips a beat, a thrill runs up his arm and down his spine. He wants this man so much; he feels as though the want is a palpable, living thing that's taken up residence in his chest; sometimes he thinks his organs are soaked in _want_ and his skin isn't enough to contain all of it, and right now, he wants Erik with every inch of his body and mind. He wishes he could somehow transmit that thought to Erik, but Raven is leaning over Erik's shoulder, looking at the phone, and pointing things out excitedly.

Charles is pretending not to glance in their direction when Erik lifts his hand to rub at his neck through his dark turtleneck. It's a seemingly innocuous gesture, like the countless motions people make all the time, but Erik's doing it with purpose. He's rubbing the spot on the join between his neck and his shoulder where Charles left a mark this morning in the shower. Erik's long fingers rub at the spot for another minute and Charles is entranced by the motion; the memory of taking Erik apart under hot running water is burned into his mind, the way everything to do with Erik is.

Erik's fingers slow and stop, before running down his chest and resting in his lap; Charles knows a tease when he sees one, and his body is thrumming with lust, desperately wishing he could trace the path Erik's fingers have just taken. For a brief moment, Erik's eyes meet his, and Charles knows that he's thinking the same thing.

Partly to hide his reaction and partly because he needs something to do other than not stare at Erik, Charles drains the rest of his tea and considers getting another cupful. To do that, he'll have to walk past Erik, which seems like an excellent plan. He says, out loud, “I'm going to get more, anyone else want a refill?” and a chorus of voices answer in the affirmative. After a few minutes of arguing and logistical discussion over how many cups of hot drinks it's possible for Charles to carry between the counter and their seats, Charles makes his way to the counter with Sean and Angel in tow, all of them carrying empty or nearly empty mugs.

Erik's eyes flicker upwards when Charles passes him; his plan was a success, clearly. He doesn't dare glance behind him once he's given the girl behind the counter their order – with interruptions from Sean and a change of order from Angel - and is leaning against it; if Erik is watching him from his seat, and he catches Erik's eye, everyone else is bound to notice.

As it is, he can feel the back of his neck prickling, as though someone – Erik –  _is_ watching him; it's not an unpleasant feeling, by any means. Erik has made no secret of his desire for him when they're in private, and Charles has never had anyone want him quite so much. It's intoxicating, knowing the effect he can have on Erik just by being near him. The level of awareness they have about the proximity of each other, no matter where they are or who they're with, is like a sixth sense. Charles finds he rather likes the idea of having an “Erik sense”. Mugs clinking onto the counter break his reverie and his heart sinks at the prospect of having to carry all of the drinks without spilling them.

The nice girl behind the counter takes pity on him and gives him a tray to carry all of the mugs; Sean and Angel have already disappeared back to their seats. When Charles turns round, he realises that there's been a rearrangement in seating; as he nears the others, he notices that Erik has moved to the two-seater previously occupied by Raven and Hank – the only spare seat now is right beside him. Charles' heart speeds up. He distributes drinks round everyone; no-one notices his difficulty in concentrating on what he's doing, so busy are they in talking to and laughing with each other. Erik's mouth wears a smile that doesn't reach his eyes while he talks to Darwin; only Charles can draw out a proper smile from him.

Charles completes his circuit, sets the tray down on an empty table not being used by anyone in their little group and lifts his cup off it, turning towards the empty seat beside Erik; he prays he doesn't give himself away when he sits down, knowing that he probably will, and strolls to his doom.

*

Erik has hardly been able to take his eyes off Charles all evening. He's not doing or wearing anything extraordinary or unusual, and, if anything, is not trying to attract any attention whatsoever; but then, Charles doesn't need to do anything much for Erik to notice him. He wonders if Charles knows, or suspects, that the seating rearrangement was at Erik's subtly-placed suggestion; the two-seater is more like a love seat than anything, and he's going to be plastered against Charles the minute he sits down beside him. Charles strolls in his direction, one hand wrapped round a mug of tea-- two sugars, a little bit of milk-- and the other shoved into his pocket.

Erik thinks the anticipation is going to kill him. The top two buttons of his white shirt have been very obviously-- at least to Erik-- unbuttoned all night, and when Charles moves, Erik can see his collarbones. He knows the shape of them well; they flow like finely-crafted words, marking the space between the smooth mound of Charles' shoulder and the spot just below his throat that Erik likes to tuck his nose into when he sleeps.

Charles pauses beside his sister to lean down and say something to her; her face lights up and her smile is wide and bright, like sunshine. Raven is beautiful, in every way that counts, and that beauty is reflected on her face. Charles has told him of his pride in her, about his worries that he's getting in the way of who she could be, his fears that she'll resent him someday, but no-one who knows the Xavier siblings could doubt the depth of their bond. For a long time, they've been all each other had; recently, though, there's been a shift in their relationship, now that Raven has Hank, and Charles... well, Erik would like to think that Charles has _him_ , and has him forever.

He was never a forever kind of guy until he met Charles.

Erik has spent of his adult life being cynical and despairing in equal measure; who, on this planet, would want to voluntarily spend time with someone like him? He's not the most sociable person, more inclined to growl at people than laugh with them. And yet, he managed to tolerate Hank at work long enough for Hank to consider them friends. Hank is the kind of genius who should be doing big things for NASA, not labouring at some innocuous engineering firm in a minor city in middle America. With Hank came Darwin, and then Angel and Alex, who Erik has long suspected of harbouring a crush on Darwin. Erik's not sure why any of them put up with his lack of social grace, or which of his sterling qualities make them seek out his company – he even heard Angel call him “cool” once, to his surprise, but he finds now that he likes them more than he would dare admit.

Hank met Raven under circumstances that Erik has never entirely understood, on account of not really listening when Hank told him all of the various installments of the romantic saga his life had become, and Raven brought her own friends; that is, there was a clear definition of “Hank's friends” and “Raven's friends” for about five minutes, and then they all got on famously with each other and became each other's friends, the way that regular people who are not Erik do. Raven introduced him to Sean, Emma, Moira and, on one of the most memorable evenings of Erik's life, her brother.

Said brother is now advancing towards the only empty seat available, beside Erik, and he braces himself inwardly for the moment Charles will sit down and squash himself into Erik. Charles doesn't so much walk as glide; Erik's never seen anyone so graceful, or so confident in themselves. Charles is making everyone laugh now as he pretends to be wobbly on his feet and pulling a cartoonish face at the prospect of dropping his precious tea; it's an act he puts on, the absent-minded teacher, when in reality he's anything but, hiding his true self away under layers of tweed jackets and elbow patches.

Charles hates putting people off, simply by virtue of being himself, but he does sometimes; the razor-sharp edge of his intellect is intimidating to people who are dumb enough to resent him for it, like that prick of a boss Charles has to suffer. Charles should be doing more than spending his life teaching science to grade-school pupils, but any time Erik mentions that to him, Charles simply smiles and says, “but it's a job I love. Why would I give it up?” His passion for the subject he teaches and his love of shaping young minds is matched only by his love for his sister and his passion for Erik, which Erik won't be getting over any time soon.

Erik glances up at him when he finally, finally, reaches the seat - Erik's been waiting for him to get here for an eternity – and smiles, a friendly gesture that he hopes will fool everyone else and that Charles will see right through. _I've been waiting on you_ , he lets his eyes say. _I know_ , Charles smirks, and sits down. The sofa dips under Charles' weight, and then his thigh is resting against Erik's, smooth and slim and strong. In an effort to distract himself, Erik asks Sean, sprawled on a seat to his left, about his band, knowing that Sean can talk about it for at least forty five minutes without needing to draw breath. Erik hopes that will be long enough for him to not think about this morning, when Charles' thighs were pressed against his in an altogether different scenario.

Erik has long since finished his coffee and therefore has nothing to occupy his hands with. He fiddles with the fringe on the arm of the seat for a while, and then lets one hand rest against his neck, leaning on the spot that was marked by Charles' teeth only this morning. A hint of pleasure/pain sears through him when he presses on the mark in a particular way, and he revels in it. It's ridiculous that Charles can have this effect on him when he isn't even touching him.

Erik glances at Charles out of the corner of his eye; one of his hands is resting on his knee, his thumb drawing a slow, steady circle on the edge of his kneecap. It's only when Charles presses his thumb _in_ briefly now and again that Erik realises what he's doing; it's a replica of the motion Charles uses over the head of his cock when he wants to drive Erik wild with want. Erik nearly chokes and covers it up by coughing; he nudges Charles' other knee with his own in an attempt to implore him to knock it off.

Charles nudges him back; Erik presses his knee against Charles' very deliberately in response, Charles pushes back hard, and Erik feels as though he's going to combust any minute now. Charles gives and takes in their relationship as much as Erik does, challenges him in all kinds of ways and infuriates Erik constantly. That never seems to stop him from wanting him, even in a public place like this. Fortunately, they've gotten good at subtle gestures, and no-one has noticed the proximity of their knees; Sean is still going strong, all waving hands and wild exaggeration; Moira is bending Charles' ear about some part of the school curriculum; and everyone else is still paying attention to their own conversation partners.

Erik's shoulder brushes against Charles' when he adjusts his position to one that's more comfortable than hanging over the arm of the seat; Charles shudders slightly, shifting away from Erik a little, and Erik does it again. Erik has left his own mark on Charles and he remembers how it got there, accompanied by him bracing one hand against the headboard of his bed and resting his weight on his other arm, legs curled around Charles' boneless body, coming hard, pouring his whole self into the man who makes up his world. He can feel his face heating at the memory, and shakes his head slightly in a desperate attempt to clear it. It's an impossible task.

The chink of mugs and the chatter around him dies away until it's only a distant roar. Later, Erik will show Charles precisely how much he's wanted him all day; for now, he's content with the heat of his thigh pressed to Charles', and the knowledge that Charles wants him at this very moment. It's enough-- it's the _whole world_ \-- to make him feel more alive than he ever has; to be glad even for all the parts of himself that he's not sure he likes because Charles reaches out and touches them with gentle hands and says, “it's alright. Trust me.”

Erik thinks he might love Charles, is sure he does, but is afraid of saying the words out loud; he wonders if there's any way he can tell him without words, in a way that Charles will understand, because Charles deserves everything that Erik gives him-- and more.

(Erik decides later that sitting beside Charles in a public place and not being allowed to touch him is the best kind of foreplay ever, evidenced by the five minutes of urgent dry-humping they do in Erik's car after everyone else has left for the night, the carpet burn on Charles' back from Erik's impatience at undressing him that made him manhandle him onto the floor in the hallway in Erik's apartment, and the visit from the landlord the next morning saying he'd had complaints from the neighbours about loud noises coming from the apartment the night before. The landlord's complaints die away when he catches sight of Charles over Erik's shoulder, half-dressed, dishevelled and giving his best impression of being shagged out; the landlord offers to ignore the complaints if he can have a tape of the two of them.

Over breakfast, Erik plucks up his courage and tells Charles he loves him; Charles' response is to kiss him senseless and whisper, “I love you too.” It's perfect.)

_Fin_


End file.
